


Just Breathe

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, One of My Favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-16
Updated: 2009-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Unhinged, tied up Sam with a side order of badass protective Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

Dean’s body is frozen in place, his eyes locked desperately onto Sam’s wild ones as his hands fumble shakily for Sam’s restraints.

He tugs them just a little bit tighter, wincing at the pull of rope on skin.

Somewhere near him, the flap of wings and the pacing of a worried demon are the only sounds in their room apart from the pounding of his heart and Sam’s muffled screams. Dean is so fucked, and his ‘help’ is no help at all, unless ‘helping’ means Cas and Ruby holding Sam down with all their supernatural strength, the combined forces of Heaven and Hell barely able to overpower his baby brother while it falls to Dean to lash Sam to the bed.

Unless ‘helping’ means standing there, useless, while Sam starts screaming so loud Dean has to roll up a t-shirt to fuckin’ _gag_ him so that nobody calls the cops. So yeah, Dean is fucked, and there’s no help at all.

It’s been almost an hour since the visions started.

Dean holds out a hand and snaps his fingers impatiently, his eyes still riveted to his brother’s. Sam’s pupils are blown wide with black and roll violently, seeing things that Dean can imagine quite clearly but never wants to think about, ever again.

“Wet towel,” Dean croaks, “ _now!_ ”

Ruby is there, pressing a soft cloth into Dean’s hand. She backs away, almost as pale as he feels. Dean presses the cloth gently to Sam’s forehead, runs it down his brother’s cheeks, dabs at the blood streaming from his nostrils.

“Sammy, look at me. Sammy?” Dean shudders at the tremble he hears in his voice. He can’t do this again, he doesn’t have anything left to sell, he doesn’t have anything left worth fighti-

“Dean,” Castiel murmurs, reaching out a hesitant hand for Dean’s shoulder. “I am sorry.”

Sam convulses, unleashing an anguished scream, and Ruby whimpers in response. Dean clenches his fist around the wash cloth so tight his knuckles turn white.

“If you can’t stop them, then _get out._ ” Dean growls, turning on the angel. With one hand he points an accusing finger, and with the other hand he holds Sam’s pounding heartbeat, pressing against his brother’s chest like he can keep it from ripping open.

Castiel hangs his head, studying the floor, flickers of uncertainty deep in his unfathomable eyes. “I … cannot,” he whispers, true regret ringing in his soft voice, “The visions are the-“

Dean turns away in disgust, reaching back to Sam. “You call this the will of God, so help me Cas, I don’t care what it takes, I will _find_ a way to kill you.” Dean moves closer and uses his weight to press Sam gently down until his struggling is minimized, taking weight off of Sam’s bruised wrists.

“Sammy, just breathe, ok? I got you. Breath for me, man, come on …” Dean rests his forehead on his brother's and closes his eyes, not willing to look into Sam’s straining stare and know that Sam doesn’t see him anymore. Dean squeezes his eyes tighter and focuses on just breathing himself. Sam seems to calm a fraction, but his heart is still racing, and he’s still crying softly underneath the cloth of Dean’s old t-shirt.

Sam isn’t coming out of the visions; he’s just sinking deeper into them.

A gentle rush of air ruffles Sam’s sweat-drenched bangs back from his face, and Dean looks up, surprised. Dean stares into the angel’s eyes without flinching, pure need radiating between them both; Dean’s for his brother, and Castiel’s for obedience.

“Cas … _please_. I need him. Please.”

Castiel stares back, and he seems to be carved in stone.

“Dean,” Ruby whispers. “I found the demon that’s casting the spell.”

Dean sees nothing but blue eyes. He doesn’t hesitate. He won’t leave Sam, not now, not with anyone.

“Go,” he tells her. “Knife’s on the dresser.” There is no sound, but he knows she’s gone, and God help him, he trusts her to end this.

Castiel sighs then, finally looking away. He reaches slowly for Sam. Dean tenses, but he lets the angel rest his palm lightly over Sam’s bleeding eyes.

Slowly, _so_ slowly, Sam’s muscles begin to relax. Frowning in concentration, the angel shakes his head.

“He is … stronger now. He is growing immune to me. I cannot put him entirely to sleep.” Cas sounds worried, but Dean doesn’t dwell on it. Not tonight.

Dean feels like his bones have turned to liquid with relief at even just this small reprieve. His fingers are trembling as he reaches up and carefully unties the gag and lays Sam’s head down into the pillows. He reaches for the ropes on Sam’s left, feeling a pathetic pulse of gratitude that Cas is already reaching for the ropes on the right.

Dean dabs the washcloth into clean water and smoothes the lines of tension from Sam’s face, blowing out a sigh as Sam’s eyelids slide mercifully shut at last. Dean finally allows his tears to fall as Sam’s breathing slows.

“Dean, I don’t know how long the effects of my spell will last,” Castiel cautions.

Dean offers Cas a tired half-smile, wiping his face clean.

“It’s ok, Cas,” he murmurs, pulling Sam into his arms. “I can take it from here.”  



End file.
